On our little dairy farm, the transition to mechanization begins with the installation of milking machines when I am fifteen years old. It is a relief to be freed from the hours of sitting on a tiny stool and squeezing teats, head against the cow’s flank. Now I just switch on the vacuum pump, connect the milking machine hose to the vacuum line and slip the four teat-cups on and leave it to do its work. Dick then attaches the second machine to the next cow. When the first cow finishes I pour the milk from the milking machine pail into a stainless-steel bucket and carry to the milkhouse to weigh and strain into a milk can the way we always have. During the milking, when we think a cow might be almost done, we watch the little window on the milk hose to see how much milk is coming through. When very little we remove the teat-cups. If the front pair of teats have been drained but the rear not, I remove the front two and leave the back ones on to complete the milking. The feel of the udder indicates whether there is any milk remaining. If there is, I pull up a stool and spend a couple of minutes stripping the rest of the milk by hand.
Page 1 of our new milking machine manual |
A couple of years later more machines are added, beginning with a Farmall A tractor. It comes with a Farmhand front-end loader that can be fitted with a hay sweep or a manure fork. We also get a Massey-Harris side-delivery rake and a McCormick seven-foot mower to attach to the tractor. Now haying is a breeze. We mow faster, without any breaks, and are spared the painful task of driving our old team of Percherons to their limit. Instead of gathering and dumping like the old rake, the new one progressively sweeps the hay to one side until it forms a two-foot-high windrow. Hay no longer coiled but left to finish curing in the windrow. When dry it is gathered by the sweep on the tractor, and either dumped on the hay rack to haul to the barn or dropped to form a stack in the field to be hauled in next winter as needed. For winter hauling we shift the hayrack onto a set of sleigh bunks because wheels are too hard to pull through the snow.
There are other changes. At last year’s Fall Show and Sale Dad sold off all the sheep. Molly and Dolly are gone, I think to the fox farm two miles west of us. Dad no longer plants an oat crop to thresh, instead buying prepared feed from the local feed mill at Salisbury Corner.
Thankfully, not all activities are farm work. When I am seventeen, Dick and I decide to become independently mobile. Although there are plenty of chances to drive Dad’s car, we want a car of our own. After saving $100 we buy a 1928 Chrysler four door sedan. A cloud of exhaust smoke follows us during our test drive, but we buy it anyway. It is a bit of a relic with wooden wheel spokes, a hardwood frame and vacuum driven windshield wipers. The wipers work fine until when passing a car in the rain the acceleration reduces the vacuum enough to stop the wipers.
The smoking exhaust is embarrassing, and it also means the car is burning a lot of oil. “Let’s give her a ring job”, I say, not knowing how, but confident we can figure it out. Fortunately, Cousin Bob, is an apprentice automotive mechanic and is our guide. It is a tedious process; we remove the head from the top of the straight six cylinder engine, remove the oil pan from the bottom, undo the connecting rods from the crankshaft, and pull out the pistons. Piston rings are replaced with new ones from Taylor and Pearson Auto Supplies in Edmonton. Before reassembly, we also remove the connecting rods shims to ensure a tight fit onto the crankshaft. On starting it up, presto!, no smoky exhaust.
The old Chrysler with its top speed of 50 mph is a good car, but not very cool. So, a year later we sell it and buy a 1932 yellow Plymouth roadster convertible complete with a rumble seat that pulls opens at the back. The top leaks, and it sometimes gets stuck in second gear but it’s a lot more fun than the old Chrysler.
I do love driving, whether it’s a car or a tractor, and I’m pretty sure I can drive anything. For example, the contractor who opened a sand pit in our North Field leaves his International TD14 caterpillar diesel tractor there unattended on weekends. It is too tempting. I walk over and climb up into the seat to figure out how this thing works. I notice a big lever on the instrument panel with the word “START” in the up position and “RUN” in the down position. With the lever in the UP position, I push the starter button a few seconds later the engine starts! After a couple of minutes, I move the lever to “RUN” causing a puff of smoke and a change in the engine sound.[1]
International TD-14 Tractor |
But before the tractor can be moved, I find the lever to raise the bulldozer blade. That accomplished, I see there are left and right foot pedals and hand levers. I decide that these must be the clutch and brake controls for each track. Sure enough, when I put it in gear and push the left lever forward the machine starts to move in a line curving to the right. When the brake pedal on the right side is depressed, the beast turns more sharply to the right. I am exhilarated! I can drive a cat!
A few days later neighbour Billy Mentuk gets his half-ton truck stuck in the ditch across the road where he is (illegally) loading sand from the road allowance. He sees me in the yard and asks if our little Farmall A tractor can pull him out. I answer, “I’m not sure – but I know the TD14 will. I feel a joyful thrill while performing this feat, especially afterwards when Billy says, “I didn’t know you could drive a cat.” In one of my proudest moments, I try to disguise my self-confident ego with false modesty, by replying, “Nothing to it really”.
There was plenty of fun in life in the country: In winter it was skating and playing hockey on the Clover Bar Village rink or on local lakes and ponds.
Going skating on a neighbour's pond |
In summer it is playing second base for the Salisbury men’s fastball team; going on bike rides; attending the United Church boy’s camp in August of each year; and enjoying the fellowship of the church-based young peoples group.
Shortly after my eighteenth birthday I enrol in the first year of the BSc program in Agriculture at the University of Alberta. Farm work, except for some evenings and weekends, is now replaced by academic pursuits. I find it intriguing to learn what lies beyond the knowledge gained from practical farm experience.
I believe that meeting the challenges of farm work gave me the confidence that would prove valuable in facing difficult tasks to be encountered later in life. I am grateful for, and feel very privileged to have had these formative years on the farm.
Farm improvements continued after my teen years. Dad had a new loose housing barn built to accommodate the expanding herd of purebred Holsteins. It contained a lounging area that was kept clean by the continual addition of straw during the winter. Next to it was a separate forage feeding alley that was cleaned regularly with the tractor and loader. Doors from the lounging area opened to the adjacent milking parlour with its three elevated stanchions. Here the milking machines were applied, and concentrate fed during the milking. In place of the old milk cans, the milk was stored in a refrigerated bulk tank to be collected by a tank truck every two days.
The farmstead in 1954 |
To feed the expanded herd, Dad rented eighty acres of adjacent cropland from a neighbour. Harvesting the oat silage produced on this land required the purchase of a second tractor and a forage harvester with wagon. The moist forage was ensiled in a long narrow pit and preserved by fermentation. During the winter it was removed by the tractor loader and dropped into the feed bunks.
By the mid 1950’s brother Dick had taken over most farming activities from Dad, who now focussed on his love of gardening. Younger brother Owen, now entering his teens, became a very capable and enthusiastic farm work partner with his dad and older brother.
[1] Later I notice that the engine has a carburetor and spark plugs on one side and diesel fuel injectors on the other. “So that’s how it works”, I thought. The START lever position puts the engine on gasoline using the spark plugs and moving it to RUN switches to the diesel fuel injectors on the other side.
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